Fields of War
by MountainLord-92
Summary: As the TARDIS prepares to land on a mysterious planet a malfunction sends it plummeting through realities until eventually landing on an alternative version of the planet on the brink of civil war. Whose side should the Doctor align with? Things may not be that simple, and he's not the only stranger in town. Alternative Universe invasion on Time of the Doctor.
1. Prologue

It is a widely acknowledged fact, that on the fields of Trenzalore, where no question can be answered falsely, that silence will fall should the ultimate question be answered. This is of course totally false. In the truthful answering of the ultimate question the one thing that will come from it is certainly not silence. What will actually occur will be the loudest, most ear splitting noise since the cacophony that is commonly known as the Last Great Time War.

So where did this misunderstanding occur? The truth is that information is like Chinese whispers. One person will state an original truth and those that hear will pass this on to others. But each individual's version of the truth will have inaccuracies so those that hear it will not hear the true story. As the word spreads further the information gets twisted and changed until, before you even realise it, the information bears no resemblance to the original truth.

In this case, the original statement 'silence will fall' was an objective, not a prophecy, the mantra of the organisation whose sole purpose was to ensure that the ultimate question was never to be answered. People who did not know the full story heard the mantra in a setting they didn't fully understand, a misinterpretation was spread through word of mouth, and soon it was believed that it was the silence that the organisation feared, when in reality they feared the noise.

The thing that nobody even realised was that the question would ever be answered at all. The one man in place to answer, ready to answer, would never answer. This man knows the prophecy himself, and he knows the truth of it. He knows that in answering the question Gallifrey will return, one thing that he yearns for with both of his hearts, but an event that can never happen. The shock to the universe of the loss of such a planet and the race that inhabited it was substantial, but it has adapted and changed to take account for this loss. The sudden return will create tidal waves and ruptures in the space time continuum. Great paradoxes that even the Reapers, self appointed guardians of the continuum, will be unable to clean. And let us not forget the plans of The Lord President of Gallifrey before he was banished to the void, or even the creatures of darkness that went with them. Should the question be answered it won't just be those lords of time who return to our world, they will bring with them a plague of Neverweres and Meanwhiles, Great Vampires, hordes of Travesty and many more.

But we should not feel that the actions to save Gallifrey were in vain. It may not be in our universe, but it is not dead and can continue to thrive in its own little universe; along with the Vampires and Neverweres and Travesties. The mistake is to believe that this is even the correct universe for it to inhabit, that Gallifrey's fall should never have happened. Everything happens for a reason. Who is to say that this is even the correct universe for Gallifrey to inhabit, there are many universes after all, how do we know which is the true one and which ones are false. Maybe the one where the cyber race has conquered half of the known worlds is the true original and the rest are merely bad copies. There is a universe outside ours where coordinates are negative, up is down, and people heal wounds in mere minutes. There is one parallel to ours, identical save for minor differences which allows a broken family to be reunited. There is even one, believe it or not, where Daleks, Sontarans, and the TARDIS are pure science fiction, the only notable life coming from a little blue orb orbiting a small insignificant star. Who is to say that Gallifrey's existence in any of these other than ours is wrong?

I do not make a habit of idle speculation; my business is cold hard facts. But in a world of contradictions and misheard truths one cannot be certain of the facts he beholds before his eyes. Not unless he travels directly to the source. Backwards along the established events, into the storm of fixed points, to times and places he should never have been.

A simple pebble dropped into a pond breaks the surface, kicking up the water and creating a noise that can be heard across the shore. And though the point of entry quickly restores itself, as though the pebble had never been there at all, the ripples continue to spread until the entire pond feels the pebble's influence.

I am that pebble. I create ripples wherever I walk. If I did not, I would not be the Informant. If one seeks knowledge, he must be willing to create a few waves.

I have told you all this for free, but if I am to give you any more I must insist on a price. Information is my business, and it is a very valuable commodity. Make me an offer and I will tell you this story. The story of what truly happened on the fields of Trenzalore. Not just in this universe, but the one across the pond.


	2. 1 Questions

Questions.

Life is full of questions. From simple and mundane, to deep and complex. From "does my bum look big in this?" To "who won the Formula one world championship in 1975?"

Louda.

"WHO WON THE FORMULA ONE CHAMPIONSHIP IN 1975!"

Or one where the value is undoubtedly priceless and yet worthless; some will sell their grandmothers for it, others couldn't care less. These are the questions I make my living from. Questions such as: "where is the ark of the covenant?"

Questions drive life. People can go mad in their search for these answers. And will certainly pay a pretty penny to one who knows the answer. Someone like me.

This story begins with a question, one which has summoned representatives from across the entire universe in search of the answer.

"So what's special about this planet then?"

The man stood by the controls of a central hexagonal console, located in the centre of the vast console room, whipped round, swishing the tail of his purple suit jacket as he went, to face his female companion. "I don't know," he said simply, and spun round once more as he raced around to the controls on the other side of the console.

This is the Doctor. He's a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. The lost planet of Gallifrey I should say, for Gallifrey does not reside in our universe any more. It was his actions in the final moments of the Last Great Time War which saved this planet from total destruction, but ultimately left him as the last of his kind.

Apart from me that is, for I am a Time Lord also; he just doesn't know about me yet.

While seeking to alleviate his loneliness he travels through time and space using his personal time machine called the TARDIS, which he is currently piloting, along with a, normally human, companion. Cue Clara, the latest in a long line of, mostly female, companions; and the asker of the question.

"What do you mean you don't know?" the short brown haired girl exclaimed.

"No that's the whole point," the Doctor grinned at her. "Nobody knows! That's what makes it so mysterious!"

If there is one thing the Doctor likes it is a good mystery. He is addicted to them. He will not cease in his exploits until he has solved said mystery, with all the enthusiasm of a puppy. As a regular mystery solver myself I can sympathise with this trait, but I also despair. For while I solve mysteries for money, he does so for reason at all, just like a dog chasing cars, he doesn't know what to do when actually finds it. It is the journey he enjoys, not the destination. For like the dog chasing that car, when he does finally reach the destination he finds that he doesn't like it as much as he thought he would.

He made he way round to his companion, grasping a screen attached to the console on his way and directing it towards her. It showed an oscillating signal pattern.

"The planet is projecting this signal across this region of space," the Doctor explained. "Every race within a 50 parsec radius has sent a ship to investigate."

"Why? What does it mean?"

"I don't know!" The Doctor exclaimed. "Why do you think we're here?"

Clara frowned. "Doesn't the TARDIS normally translate everything?"

"Handles, how is your translation program going?" The Doctor called to no one obvious in the room.

"Translation ongoing, master," an electronic voice, from a robotic head perched on the console, replied.

"We're working on it," the Doctor summarised.

Clara Oswald is not like most of the companions the Doctor has travelled with over the centuries. While most took residence in the TARDIS and went with him wherever he went, Clara lives in a flat in England, on the planet Earth, has a job as a school teacher and a school girl crush on the man she occasionally travels with. In her absence the Doctor is like a castaway, abandoned and alone, so when he recently came across the abandoned head of a Cyberman he could not resist the urge to use it as the base to build a new friend. The head now serves as a talking computer for the Doctor to interface with the TARDIS, while headphone like handles on top of the head allow for portability. The Doctor names this device: Handles, thus proving he has zero imagination.

With that first question explained, mostly, we move onto a second, more puzzling conundrum.

"So why are we naked then?" Clara questioned, in a voice that suggested that this was not the first time she had asked this.

"Because we're going to church of course," the Doctor scoffed as if it were obvious.

"So you keep saying, but why?"

"What else would you wear to church?"

The Doctor can be incredibly thick sometimes. This holy order, which is more of a private military organisation than a religious order, in which every member wears clothes, mostly military fatigues, insists that all visitors enter naked and he's not even a little suspicious? Maybe I'm just being cynical.

"I don't know why you're embarrassed about it," the Doctor continued. "You are wearing the holographic clothes I gave you."

Clara looked down at her body. She knew that she was naked, she could feel the breeze in her nether regions, but it looked as though she was wearing a short leather skirt, dark tights, high heeled ankle boots and a figure hugging yellow top. "Not much point when you and me are the only people who can see them though," she commented.

I apologise for the poor grammar, she is a Londoner.

The point in showing this second question is the can of worms that can come from a simple question. The answer in itself can generate yet more questions and conundrums, until you do not even know which way is up. The heartening thing is that those questions do not even matter, for things are about to change, fast. What should be an adventure on the unnamed planet is soon to transform into a completely different story entirely.

"Master! Warning!" Handles announced. "Eddys in the time vortex! Repeat, Eddys in the time vortex!"

"What?" The Doctor froze in his tracks.

"Eddys in the time vortex!" Handles repeated.

"No I meant..."

He was cut off as the entire room shook and knocked both him and Clara off balance. He quickly recovered and fought his way over to the console, the entire room bucking as he went; Clara herself had her arms wrapped around a railing.

"But we're not even in the time vortex!" the Doctor yelled.

The TARDIS did not react to this logic and maintained its bucking and swaying motion. The Doctor frantically pushed buttons and pulled levers but that made no difference.

"What's happening?" Clara cried.

"Eddys in the time vortex," Handles repeated.

"But what does that even mean?!"

"Exactly what he says," the Doctor interjected. "There's some sort of time storm in the vortex, something is splitting the boundaries between universes, and it's so big that it's spilling into real space, right on top of us!"

To emphasise the point the TARDIS shook again, even more violently. Outside great tears started rip through space, creating bright white malevolent cracks that contrasted strongly with the black backdrop. They spread until the tips joined at a central point which slowly started to expand into a glowing white orb as the cracks started to spin. By now even the other ships in the area had noticed this and were frantically changing course to avoid the arcing blue and red lightning that was flowing from the cracks; one came too close and was cleaved completely in two, the rest barely getting away in time, but there was no such escape for the TARDIS. It was right in the heart of the storm, and though it fought like a cornered cat it could not resist as it was steadily pulled into the centre of the vortex. Spinning slowing and uncontrollably, and then it was gone.

Questions are only as important as the situation. For the Doctor and Clara, those questions are no longer relevant. Nothing is ever fixed. Many go on journeys seeking enlightenment and the answer to the one thing they have always wanted to know, and by the end they will have found an answer; but not to the question they had at the beginning. No longer should we ask what is so special about this planet sending out a signal and instead turn our attention to the true questions.

What has happened to the Doctor and Clara? What lies beyond the time storm? And where did this storm come from?


End file.
